Élia
by Elvina25
Summary: A story of love and adventure. (First fanfic, please enjoy and review:)
1. Chapter 1

_Hey! This is my first fanfic. Thanks for reading:)_

CH.1

The rosy fingers of dawn painted the sky above Rivendell. A breeze brought the smell of the forest through the light-filled rooms of the last homely house. The patients rested – their minds far from their troubles. They were mostly guards that were injured in the border skirmishes which were becoming more and more frequent. Though elves do not take long to heal, many of the guards (specifically the unbonded guards) lingered in the homely house – enduring the captivity, boredom and frequent (one might say obsessive) bandaging and re-bandaging inherent in a prolonged stay. Often they would feign muscular discomfort, difficulty sleeping, stomach illnesses and more. The head healer, initially concerned, had come to regard these 'injuries' with little more than bemusement.

Élia arrived only moments after sun-up. She walked over to the work table and unloaded a cache of medicinal herbs, thistles, flowers, fungi and algae. After arranging the various bandages, instruments and scrolls, she paused. She looked through her ingredients and picked up a bundle of algae. She placed it on the table of the other apprentice – a gift. Satisfied with her work, she turned her attention to the patients.

The patients smiled as she came by. As she inspected their bandages, they told told her of their talans outside the city, of their families, of their wives and sisters and lovers. She listened, laughing at their jokes and stories. They watched her go from patient to patient, the fine threads of her hair steadily escaping their braids. She changed all every bandage – washing off the wound, reapplying salve, and meticulously rewrapping the cloth. Just as she finished with her last patient, Lord Elrond entered the door.

'Good morning, Élia!'

Startled by the voice, she turned quickly, 'Oh, Elrond! How are you this morning?'

He raised an eyebrow at her surprise, 'fine, fine.. how are you?'

'Oh, fine,' she said quickly. 'I was looking at the charts. It seems as though all the ellyn are recovered, and...,' she continued more quietly, 'have been for several days. I don't know how to get them to leave.'

Elrond's eyes crinkled ever so slightly, 'I imagine that you should remind them of the importance of patrolling our boarders.'

'Certainly, they're aware...'

'Something about this place lends to a kind of forgetfulness,' he said. The ghost of smile reached his mouth, and then vanished. 'Élia, we have other matters of which to speak. The wedding parties from Lórien and Mirkwood are arriving today. Though I have heard of no attacks, we will, regardless, prepare a number of fresh beds and a good deal of sleeping balm, for which we will need more Lissuin flowers. Have you seen any growing lately?'

'Aye, there is some beyond the river in the direction of the mountains. I can harvest it this evening, once the beds are prepared and the other balms have been mixed.'

Elrond, having been busy inspecting the algae she brought, stopped short. 'You will take a guard with you. The land beyond the river is no longer safe.' She nodded. 'Also, where did you find these algae? I haven't found the like for years.'

She blushed, 'a mountain cave... but I went with a guard!'

Elrond looked at her askance – being far too familiar with her perilous sense of curiosity and previous misadventures . 'I should hope so... '

She smiled, 'well, at least, I'm getting quieter!'

'It would be harder to be louder..'

She laughed, 'oh, ada, it must have been so difficult for you to raise such an orcling.' He smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder and a kiss on her forehead.

'We both know that it was the twins who raised you. Arwen and I were simply present to teach and guide from a distance,' his affection was evident in his voice. 'I must go though, there is still much to arrange. Remember the beds and the flowers!'

'Of course,' she said, kissing his temple. She watched him as he walked through the door. When he walked past the window, his eyebrows were already knitted with reflection. She returned to her work table – alone with her work and her thoughts.

She knew that engagements ended in the marriage of those engaged; with Elrohir though, it had never seemed real. Growing up, he was hers. He was the one she went to – no matter the reason or the time of day. In Arwen and Elladan, she had found friend and sibling. In Elrohir, she had only ever seen hero. Though it was far beyond the limit of her memory to recall, she knew that it was Elrohir who had rescued her from the wreckage of her home and the carnage of her family. He had taken her into the bosom of his family – given her a family, a life. In return, she had given him everything of the heart she had – she had become his shadow, his imitator, his greatest and most secret admirer. She felt her heart swell at the thought of him... only to pinch. It was he who would marry four days hence. Even her fingertips hurt at the thought.

His betrothal to Uruviél, the only daughter of Thranduil, had been decided thousands of years ago (indeed, before the births of either elf). Their marriage would unite the houses of Imladris and Mirkwood, previously so distant. As they matured, they seemed well-suited and the date was planned for the thousandth birthday of Uruviél. Uruviél renowned as an elleth both exquisitely lovely and gracious. In every opinion, she was the perfect match for Rivendell's unruly firstborn.

Aria cleaned the mortar she had used, setting aside her ingredients. Tonight was the official commencement of the wedding festivities, and she intended to stay as far from the city as possible. Although there was the question of a guard.. She wondered, who could she ask?

Elladan, she decided. He could always be persuaded to skip a festival, banquet, feast, what-have-you. He would gladly accompany her to the mountains tonight...

* * *

'No,' he said.

'But Elladan! You hate festivites – they're so loud and drunken and silly. You would be much happier in the mountains where it's calm and quiet.. It's not even so far from the city, really! It's just beyond the river and the first meadow and the second creak and..,' she looked up pleadingly.

'No,' he said again, amused by her antics.

'Please?' she implored.

'No and no, little elanor,' he said, smiling. 'I may despise feasts and festivals, but I will not miss the wedding of my twin, not for the world!'

He laughed at her pout.

'Come now, Éli, be reasonable.'

'There will be another celebration tomorrow and the day after and the day after... It will be nearly a week of celebration, Elladan. Do you really feel like you must attend them all?'

'Don't you? I should never have imagined that you would run off and miss a celebration of your dearer older brother,' he said with a grin.

She looked down, 'Ada asked me specifically... and you know how I dislike these things.'

'Little one,' he said, raising her chin with his finger, 'little one, he is to be married not murdered. He will still collect plants with you, still take walks with you, still save you when you are being chased by packs of orcs or streams of angry ants.

'Besides,' he added. 'Uruviél is beautiful and kind; she will make Elrohir happy. Perhaps you will even have some elflings to play with soon.'

The thought of Uruviél making Elrohir happy was devastating, and the idea of elflings made her sick.

'I'm not little,' she replied, her expression sour. 'And what if he doesn't like her? He's never even met her!'

Elladan made a noise of agreement, but couldn't keep the mirth from his eyes, 'Aye, you're not far from your majority now, are you?

'It's only a fifty years from now...' she said, a hopeless hope resounding with every syllable.

Elladan didn't respond. He smiled slightly (or perhaps sadly) as he watched her.

'Elrohir is in the stables now, you should talk to him before tonight. He is anxious.'

The afternoon sun streamed down onto the city blow. From her view through the window, it looked as though the whole of Rivendell was caught in a drop of amber. The houses, the water, the rocks, the air – all trapped in golden light. The beauty of the moment seemed so ephemeral, so final, so much like change. She knew she had to see him again, one last time before he bonded, before he trapped. She turned to Elladan.

'Thank you, brother,' she hugged him, and walked from his sight.

He looked after her, noticing for the first time the shy curves of her body and the new, more feminine braids of her hair. He watched her disappear.

'Aye, Éli, you are right... you are coming upon your majority.'

* * *

So... what do you think? Should I continue?


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey everyone, second chapter. Hope you like it!_

When she arrived, he stood with his back to her. His horse neighed in aknowledgement of her, but he continued his long, slow brushes. Light filtered in through slits in the stall panelling, illuminating the dust. His familiar black hair was braided down his back. He wore a long riding tunic. It looked as though he were ready to ride, ready to travel. Élia waited for a minute, watching him.

'I suppose you wouldn't want to collect with me tonight,' she offered wryly.

He didn't answer. It was as though he hadn't heard her.

'Elrohir?'

She walked toward him – her footsteps falling softer and softer as she approached him.

Nearly behind him, she spoke again, 'Ro?'

She reached her hand out to his shoulder. His tension was palpable – it rolled off of him in waves. Gingerly, she stepped to his side. Looking up into his face, she could see no emotion. Her eyebrows knitted.

'What is wrong, Ro?'

He turned to look at her. The tension melted quickly away from his features, and he smiled.

'Nothing is wrong, Éli. I am distracted – that's all.'

'Oh, alright.'

'Have you picked out your dress for this evening? I'm surprised, actually, shouldn't you be getting ready with Arwen?'

She shuffled her feet a bit.

'I... have to collect tonight, really. We don't have enough Lissuin flowers...'

He nodded, 'Where do you collect those?'

'The valley beyond the river and the creek – the one with the high grass, near to the mountain top.'

'Oh, of course! I had forgotten that they were there!'

She laughed, 'yes, you were the one who showed me.'

'I remember like it was yesterday – you had been begging –'

'– I did not beg!'

He laughed, 'no, no, of course not, you had been 'asking' me where I found mine for months, and, finally, when I showed you, you disturbed a colony of fire ants that followed us down the mountain nearly to Rivendell!'

She gave him a mock glare, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

'If I remember correctly, I just disturbed them... It was you who tried to 'deter' them down by throwing water on them! Only after that did they chase after us. Then, remember? We raced down the mountain past Arwen who was picking flowers in a field. We tried to get her to run with us, but she didn't understand what we were talking about so she just stood there until the ants were but a few paces from her skirts...

'I think I've never seen anyone run faster in my life!'

His full laugh filled her heart with an aching happiness. She watched him with a grin.

Just at that moment, a sound caught their attention. Their laughter died – it was the sound of an incoming party. They were arriving. Elrohir looked at Élia, his eyes indecipherable. She looked down.

'Is it true, Ro?'

'Is what true?'

'Will you really leave for Mirkwood once you are married?'

She looked up at him. Her eyes brimmed with tears. His expression became pained.

'Yes... I must, but know, Éli, my little one, know that should one thousand years pass before I see you again, I will always love you, always think of you. You will always be my little elanor.'

With that, he wrapped her in his arms as she shook with repressed sobs. He patted her head, and whispered a stream of words into her hair. It was a language unknown to her, but she felt at once uplifted, calmed, brave. She released him. She took a step back. She paused for a minute. Then, quick as the wind, she kissed Elrohir on his cheek. She stepped back again and looked him in the eye.

'Goodbye, Ro. I will miss you.'

Without waiting to hear what he had to say, she dashed away.

A stunned Elrohir held a hand to his check. Though the kiss may have been that of a sister to her brother, it scorched his skin like that of lover to her beloved. He could not determine what she had meant by the kiss nor what he felt in response. She was as dear to him as his own sister. Little Élia. He would never forget when he found her - crying amidst the smoke and cinders. He had never felt anything so strong as his impulse to rush to her and take her in his arms. From that point forward, he was hers.

With that thought, he resolved, that the love in his heart was that of the deepest, familial sort. And her kiss... well, it was a kiss from a sister to a brother. And her farewell... it was a true farewell. Somehow he knew that after this celebration, he would not see her for a great, great many years. The thought pained him.

_Later that evening..._

The night grew darker and the path grew wilder as Rivendell disappeared in the distance. Élia adjusted the pack on her shoulder, climbing through slowly through tall grass. Mountain winds whipped the open fields. The night was crystalline, and the stars were as pale and cold as diamonds.

Élia was accustomed to hiking; she liked it even. Ever since she was a child, she would creep to the corners of the realm – relishing the quiet, the still. It was only then that she could remember her snippets of her family – her mother's smell, her sister's laugh, the golden brown of her father's hair. Though she had barely known her kin, she missed them. Somewhere, she thought, they were in the Halls of Mandos, waiting for her..

She couldn't remember what happened – how they died. She knew how they died, of course. Elrond had told her when she was old enough. Her village had been raided. Everyone had died except for her. It was never known why they had attacked with such ferocity that night nor how she had survived. Perhaps there was no reason. Orcs are senseless creatures.

She shuddered at the thought of orcs, and turned her mind elsewhere. The flowers. Where were they, she wondered. They should be... right there. In the center of the field. She sat down next, hidden by the tall grass. The flowers, blue as midnight, were fragrant when crushed, smelling of mint and jasmine. In the many, many times that she had been injured, she never once minded the sleeping balm simply because of how good it smelled – so fresh and clean. The compound responsible for the effect was present only within the petal. Thus, the petal had to be crushed for the compound to be available. For this reason, Élia was sure to be careful.

She plucked half of the blooming flowers, making sure to leave the stems intact. The rest of the blooms she left to propagate. Each of the flowers she dropped into her satchel. She picked up one, the last one. She was nearly done.

The moon had risen fully and was glowing down upon her. Elrohir, she knew, had met Uruviél. By now they would have danced and sung and feasted together. They would have held each other in front of the court, every eye alight with happiness. She choked back a sob. How could this have happened? How could he love her?

The smooth cheek beside her own – his skin beneath her lips – the smell of his hair – the sound of his laugh – the strength in his arms. How? How could? How could he? She breathed in sharply, the pain in her chest suddenly so overwhelming. She struggled for breath. In an attempt to slow her breathing, she brought her hand to her chest, which worked... very well. She felt immediately so calm, relaxed. It was as though, as though...

She looked down. The last Lissuin clung to her chest... crushed. The blue fluid dripped slowly down the skin on her chest and her hand. It was all but certain that she would the night, somewhere outside Rivendell in a drug-induced coma.

Panic and drowsiness warred with one another. Her choices, she realized sleepily, would be to sleep here or somewhere on the road. The road was often passed by strangers, especially at night; yet, it was closer to home and frequented by the patrol. The place she sat now was completely unvisited by the patrol; yet, the mountain wind and the tall grass might hide her from untoward eyes and noses. And it was so... comfortable.

She wrapped her cloak around her and lay down. Sleep crept up her body. The wind, once so calm, seemed to sing more sinister notes as she lay immobilized. If she weren't so terrified of making anoise, she would certainly have cried. If she didn't die tonight, Elrond would certainly kill her once she was home...

_Thank you for reading. Feel free to leave any comments or suggestions that you may have!_

_All the best,_

_Elvina_


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